This sentence seemed to act like a command; the few people who had been watching from the sidelines immediately crowded around, each taking turns kicking and stomping on the boy. After beating him for a while, they would ask, "Was it you?" Eventually, the boy couldn't take it anymore and incoherently confessed to anything, at which point the attackers seemed satisfied, as if they had completed an interrogation.

"Admitting it is enough, don't worry, we'll deal with you slowly later—let's go for now."

With that, as the class bell rang, the group of young thugs scattered in a rush. The beaten boy took quite a while to stagger to his feet. He reached up to touch the nosebleed on his face, then hunched his shoulders and walked over to the faucet, turning on a thin stream of water and carefully rubbing the cuff of his school uniform that had scraped the floor. His hands were shaking so much he could barely hold onto the sleeve.

Then he sniffed hard—not because he was crying, but because his nose was still bleeding.

He smoothed out the damp corner of his shirt and walked out, numb and unfeeling.

It wasn't until things had been quiet outside for a long time that Brian Cooper silently emerged from the small cubicle. He glanced at the drops of blood on the floor and used his foot to smear the congealed bead of blood.

"Key city school, exempt from the graduation exam?" He sneered at a broom-shaped bloodstain and thought, "Bullshit."

Chapter 3 Brian Cooper

William Carter dashed into the hallway, rushed up to the second floor, and kicked open the back door of Class One. He slipped in through the back, grabbed a school jacket hanging on the door—who knows whose it was—shook off the dust, and put it on. Then he rolled up his own jacket, stuffed it into his bag, tossed it under the desk, ran a hand through his hair, and snatched Henry Clark's glasses, perching them on his nose—successfully changing his appearance.

Henry Clark: "...A magic transformation?"

William Carter: "No big deal—whose jacket is this hanging back here?"

Henry Clark: "I think it's 'Grandpa's.'"

"Grandpa" was the nickname of the guy sitting in front of them, whose surname was Lao—the same "Lao" as the "old man" in "The Smiling, Proud Wanderer." His full name was simply "Old Miller." When "Kangxi Dynasty" first aired on CCTV-8, Old Miller was obsessed with it, and ever since then, he picked up the habit of calling himself "Grandpa." Over time, his status in the class rose two generations, and he became everyone's "Grandpa."

"Grandpa" wasn't much to look at, his face covered in layers of acne. Hearing his name, he turned around, stretched his "worldly" face, winked at William Carter, and said in a pinched voice, "This is a tribute from the Queen of the Women's Kingdom. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't give it away, but Second Master, please take off your own and let me wear it."

William Carter pulled a face: "Oh, Qiguan, with all those 'youthful, beautiful pimples' on your face, you could fry up a whole pan. Can you stop thinking about laying hands on pretty boys all day?"

Old Miller's fragile heart was shattered by these shallow mortals who only cared about looks. Clutching his chest, he whimpered "ying ying ying" and turned to the blackboard to nurse his wounds.

After sending away the bystanders, William Carter finally lowered his voice and said to Henry Clark, "Your problem is settled. From now on, if anyone comes to collect debts, they'll go to your uncle, not you. After school today, why don't you talk to that McDonald's again, see if you can still work there? If not, ask them to schedule your shifts at night. I'll find a few people to take turns covering for you."

Henry Clark's glasses had been taken by William Carter, so his eyes couldn't quite focus, making him look a bit lost. "Thanks."

He paused for a moment, then seemed to think that just saying "thanks" was too little. He tapped his pen and said, "William, if you ever..."

"Stop right there," William Carter interrupted with a grin. "Don't even think about repaying me with your body—I'm still pure."

Henry Clark forced a smile, but his brows didn't relax. He asked cautiously, "Did you spend any money?"

William Carter had not only spent money, but was nearly broke.

He usually had plenty of pocket money, but he was always the one picking up the tab, used to spending freely, with no sense of saving. The new year's money he had just received was all in his bank card, which he could withdraw, but didn't dare to—because the card was registered with his mom's ID, and her phone would get balance notifications. Any large withdrawal would have the Empress Dowager interrogating him within five minutes.

At the moment, he had only 26.5 yuan left—and he still needed to pay an extra 16 yuan for printing that afternoon. He was really strapped for cash.

But William Carter just brushed his lips together and dismissed his predicament.

He said, "Spent three yuan to buy my brother an ice pop, so don't worry about it."

It wasn't that he wanted to do good deeds anonymously—if it were anyone else, maybe he wouldn't care, but Henry Clark was really down and out. He even paid class fees with a handful of small bills. If he found out he owed such a big favor, he'd be grateful now, but it would make things awkward between them later.

Henry Clark didn't know what to feel. He put his hand on William Carter's shoulder. "Bro..."

Before he could say anything more, the furious grade director burst in, cutting off Henry Clark's train of thought.